


Cruel To Be Kind

by Samarkand12



Series: The Heterodyne's Girl [3]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Female Character, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-09-28 07:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20422046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samarkand12/pseuds/Samarkand12





	Cruel To Be Kind

It is easy to think that Dio Zardeliv is an inconsequential man. Her great-uncle was jolly Uncle Tick-Tock to the Storm Lord clans: a portly, short man whose shocks of white hair sticking out to either side of a balding head and snowy beard were a contrast to the Parisian cast to his complexion. His greatest passions were chronometer collecting and keeping company with whatever _lorette_ had caught his eye of the season. Even that he was a Spark was muted by a tendency to stay grounded. It was an excellent facade to deflect attention from his conspiratorial, murderous relatives. Seffie respected his professionalism in that. It was still a bit shocking to see "Tick-tock" with a set of intricate goggles over his eyes instead of pince-nez. The obsessive cast of a mild fugue had consumed his features in a way that would surprise many of his graduate students. Several devices of sparkish nature pulled from the innocuous leather briefcase he had brought along with him beeped and chimed. A compact plotter inked readings onto a strip of paper spooling down to the floor.

The focus of all the attention was the secret compartments within Agatha's locket. It rested on her throat as she slept under the influence of a useful chemical hidden in Seffie's cane. When she awoke, her unconsciousness could be explained by the second glass of cognac that Seffie has manipulated her into drinking. It had taken all of Seffie's ingenuity to find the concealed catch that opened the inner compartment of the locket. Varpa's assistance would have allowed it to be find much quicker. However, Seffie had dismissed her personal Smoke Knight into the garret rented above the apartment the instant she had seen those portraits. She and Varpa had been together long enough that Varpa would be busy writing cheese-oriented poetry to not see precisely what her mistress was up to. Seffie had then sent a message by _poste pneumatique_ to dear Uncle that his new clockwinder wanted to speak with him. 

Uncle Dio carefully moved the tiny switch in the arc-shaped slider control bar towards the right. The control had originally been knocked three notches from what was presumably the maximum setting by whatever impact had dented the casing. Agatha's features twisted in agony as she jerked against the soft strap binding her body. The dissonant chimes from the tiny mallets hitting the equally small tuning forks in the other hand of the casing would have been inaudible when the locket was sealed. In the open air, the whispers from the tuning forks sent a wave of nausea through Seffie had nearly brought up the day's lunch. Uncle Dio snapped his head back as if scorched. He quickly moved the slider back to the position it had been in before sealing up the locket. Agatha sighed as the mechanism within ceased its assault.

"This is some sort of reversal of their ancestral vocal tic, isn't it?" Seffie mused. "Instead of canceling out sounds, it increases distracting noises on a subliminal level."

"More than that." Dio stepped away from Agatha as if she were a clock counting down. "Those are aetheric emitters. There's a fair bit of speculation that the harmonics of a Spark in fugue have a transdimensional harmonic component that affects the human mind."

"What an elegantly nasty device," Seffie said. She tapped it lightly. "I wonder if affects only one of her heritage, or--"

"Don't touch it, niece!" Uncle slapped her hand away. "A mundane touching it would begin to feel effects in minutes. It would take several hours to kill. But it would inhibit brain function."

"Will it damage her if she continues to wear it?" Seffie asked. "She is extremely valuable to my brother. We need her somewhat functional."

"It would be kinder to lobotomize her." Uncle Dio patted the sweat off his bald pate. "I will not ask how you will prepare her for Martellus. I do not want any part of this."

"You are already implicated." Seffie laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "No-one will think that you asked me to supervise her by chance. We also do not need her patron becoming curious about why you suddenly withdrew your offer."

"I can't without losing the bri--er, funding Wulfenbach offered to the Horological Studies department," Uncle Dio admitted. "All I ask is that when you do whatever you do to her, I not be involved."

"All in good time." Seffie smiled triumphantly as she patted Agatha's cheek. "My gift to my favorite brother will understand her duty when the time comes."

"Do be careful, niece." Uncle Dio kissed her cheek. "What I see there is a clock that is steadily ticking down."

It was a good thing that shame and empathy had been trained out of her. Either would have been crippling. Undoing the restraint straps, Seffie posed Agatha for waking up from her supposed cognac-induced slumber. She really did look so adorable snoring with a touch of drool at the corner of one mouth. Seffie dabbed the spittle away with a handkerchief. She snatched her hand away when she found herself caressing the sleeping girl's cheek. There was no point in getting sentimental over_ they'll do what they did to Anevka_ what really was a pash. Agatha had become a pawn the moment Seffie had seen those portraits. She had been one all her life. Tarsus Beetle must have known the connection between Agatha and her mother. He had obviously been grooming her to control the slaver wasps. The hive engine that had activated prematurely must have been a preparation for a field test of the control harmonics in Agatha's voice.

Although, she should sent flowers to the late Tyrant's grave for setting things up so nicely for her. Agatha was so utterly broken. All it would take is just a bit of manipulation to transform the Heterodyne Girl into a pawn. Oh, nothing like how her beloved brother would handle matters. The poor thing would likely end up shackled in one of his labs being dosed with Great-Aunt Rappaccini's concoction. Hmmmm. Run her as a "false" Heterodyne Heir of her own? That might be seen as a challenge to the plot to put _that stinking up-jumped chorus girl_ into the conductor's cab in Mechanicsburg. Ahhhh. Agatha could be kept ignorant of her heritage while providing a true Heterodyne Heir born of her and Martellus to pose as his and _that nasty tart__'s_ child. And then Zola could die so tragically young. Everyone would be in mourning. Pity that, Seffie looked terrible in black. Nothing like Auntie Selnikov, whose raven-dark hair could pull off the look with that pale complexion. 

And Agatha? 

Terrible thing, miscarriages. She would be rendered barren.

There was a nice, quiet convent where she could devote her life to God.

Seffie spun a tool with her fingers before carefully opening the concealed compartments of the locket. She was very careful not to touch the casing with her fingers. The delicate tool pressed to the recess in the slider switch. Best ensure that Agatha was shackled properly. She should _stay crushed and dead and miserable_ under control. She had to _be a dolt when she had such fire and promise_ controlled. She would _live a loveless life dictated by the commands of old men_ serve to bring the vengeance of the Storm Lords and the rise of the Storm King's Crown to fruition. Just a touch of pressure to-- Oh, dear. The thrill of it all had caused her hand to slip. The slider has clicked down to the halfway point. There was no time to adjust it upwards. Seffie could hear Agatha's breathing quicken. Swiftly, she closed up the locket while leaving the portrait compartments open.

Her back to Agatha, Seffie mimed cleaning a set of cognac glasses. Into each she poured part of the contents of a vial of acid that had been in one of her cane's compartments. The portrait of William Heterodyne broke apart into fragments before dissolving into nothingness. Agatha coughed as she awoke. Seffie held up the portrait of Lucrezia. It had never been personal between them as it had been between her and Grandmamma. There was a gasp. "No, no, where are they, they were there, I checked--" Seffie lowered the portrait of Lucrezia slowly into the second glass. She watched _the monster they had invited into their fold_ come apart as _the daughter shackled just as Seffie was to the whims of her family_ cried as she found the last vestiges of the life she had once known go missing. Seffie poured the contents of both glasses into the drains before letting them shatter as she turned about in surprise.

"Agatha, whatever is the matter?"

"They're gone," Agatha sobbed, clutching the open locket. "Uncle said they would always watch over me. And they're gone."

"Oh, dear," Seffie hugged Agatha close. "It's alright."

+++++

_Dear Mr, Wooster,_

_ I am well--_

Agatha stroked the locket as she stared out the window. Raindrops ticked against the panes.

\--_as can be expected. I have not had an opportunity to see Paris. Yet even with only a glimpse of the city--_

Green eyes took in the sight of the mist-shrouded Awful Tower with puzzled intensity.

\--_I am feeling--_

The pen nip paused above the paper.

Fingertips pressed to a temple that should be aching.

\--_better. Even if disappointments continue to haunt me. But I suppose that is Paris. One's sorrows as well as one's joys become more intense.--_

Agatha listened to Sophie bustling in the parlor just outside the bedroom.

\--_One joy however small is finding a friend on the first day I came here._\--

A slight blush came over her cheeks as she remembered waking up with Sophie embracing her from behind in the bed beneath the window.

\--_She has been amazing to me for one who has only known me for less than a day.--_

Agatha flicked open the locket. Her fingers traced the little medallion of Saint Teodora Vodenicharova secured there in place of one of the lost portraits.

\--_She has given me a reminder that even in the worst of times, one can find the will to endure and persevere in spite of all one's problems. Your master has given me an amazing opportunity. I will not waste it.--_

Agatha grabbed the robe hanging from a hook in the bedroom walls.

_\--I wish you all the best in you and your master's work in Beetleburg.--_

The pen swirled with a last flourish.

_\--Sincerely yours,_

_ Agatha Clay--_

Breathing deeply, Agatha went out to join her room-mate for breakfast.

_   
_


End file.
